


Unsung Heros

by Idreamofhazel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Major Character Death, Gen, Sam Winchester falls into the pit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 10:07:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18914785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idreamofhazel/pseuds/Idreamofhazel
Summary: You recount how the Winchesters became heroes to you and the world, and how you learned to believe again.Written for @mrsbatesmotel53‘s Motel Challenge. Prompt was Something to Believe In by Young the Giant March 2017I’ll give you something to believe in, Burn up a basement full of demons, Realize you’re a slave to your mind, break free





	Unsung Heros

By the end of a person’s stay, a motel room tells a story. The clothes and food wrappers and messy beds are details that let housekeeping know what a person did in town. If there’s sandy shoes, empty sunscreen bottles in the trashcan, and wet bathing suits hanging in the shower, then one could guess that the occupants went out on the lake for an afternoon of boating. If the maids find nothing much at all except a mildly ruffled bed cover, extra business cards fallen on the floor, and some takeout left on a table, then perhaps the person was only there on business. **  
**

The housekeepers cleaning the Winchesters’ motel rooms would gather stories vastly different from those about the everyday people, civilians as the Winchesters would call them. Many would assume that these tenants were day drinkers, most likely people you would find at an AA meeting for the first time. They would see the skin mag slid under the bed and a forgotten female undergarment in the sheets. The tv might have an episode of Casa Erotica playing and the state of the room would let them know that no one had cleaned all week. Put all this together, and the housekeepers would piece together a story of aimless drifters, skeezy men whose only goal in life was a good drink and an even better woman.

These employees were unable to read between the lines. They could not notice the important details in the story like you did. You had a few advantages over these civilians, you would admit, living with the Winchesters for three years. But anyone who took the time to closely examine these men’s lives would see the truth. They were heroes.

They weren’t the heroes on comic book covers, movies, or even a local news channel. They weren’t praised or rewarded. They were barely even thanked, but they were heroes nonetheless. They had saved you when you needed it most. You were on the brink of giving up, a desolate drifter yourself who had lost all purpose. You began hunting with so much motivation, so much passion to right the wrongs of the world. Everything seemed possible and right at your fingertips. But as the body count rose higher and higher in that unforgiving job, the light in your soul grew dimmer and dimmer.

What sparked it anew was a pair of eyes with irises like lagoon waters, sparkling in the midday sun. You were thrown into a case with this man and his brother by your dear friend Ellen, but by the end of the week, it felt more like fate than it did a mother’s push. Sam invited you to stay and that’s all you needed. Just the question. And you became a Winchester by association, going everywhere they went, living the way they lived. Eventually, you became something to Sam, but most of that storyline was lost in overarching plots that appropriated your lives.

Through every case they took on, and every major event in their life–Dean’s death, Sam’s addiction, the battles of angels and demons, the death of Ellen and Jo–you helped write the story that would never be read by the world, a tale, a legend even, that became about a tangled web of love and family, sacrifice and responsibility, destiny and choice. Different details told that story now. Blood stains on carpets or sheets that may have belonged to one of you, or maybe Ruby. Holes on walls from fights fueled not by hate, but by a  _philía_  so strong that it couldn’t bear to see the other walking down such a dangerous path. There were no longer case notes, but attempts to stop an impending apocalypse.

But no one noticed these things. Not the housekeepers, not the neighbors, and certainly not anyone who had almost been affected by the end of the world. They never noticed any of it. They never noticed the biggest sacrifice of all, the moment that defined the Winchesters forever as the hunters who saved the world.

Sam fell into that pit willingly, fully aware of his actions and his future. He was not pushed, regret never flickered in his eyes before the jump. Not when he told Dean it was ok. Not when he told you he loved you for the first time. He sacrificed himself, taking down the last enemy angel, and ending it all in that cemetery.

Through the brokenness following that monumental event, the flame returned to your soul. It had never been Sam’s intention, inviting you to travel with them, to change you in any way, but that was the effect he had. You saw his life, how he loved his family, how he fought to keep them safe. How he took every bad thing in his life and tried to use it for good. How he ultimately became the most unselfish human to ever live. These things you saw gave you purpose again. You saw the reason for fighting even when it felt like you weren’t getting anywhere. You saw the reason for optimism in the darkest of storms. You saw a reason to believe, in those you love, in the good of the world, and in yourself.

So yes, if these passer-bys in the Winchesters’ life would have bothered to look a little closer, they would’ve seen this story. The long hours of important research in trashed handwritten notes, books left open, countless coffee cups in the fridge and takeout for every meal. They would’ve seen the bruises and cuts from fighting against evil, the marks they wore like badges of honor. They would’ve seen their war-torn eyes torn not from military battles, but from fighting hidden ones; battles against unspoken creatures in the dark; against those celestial beings people talk of, but don’t truly believe in. Battles that altered the cosmic plans that threatened the whole world and their family. The civilians would’ve seen it all.

Both Winchesters were heroes. Dean carried the weight of responsibility, fought when he could’ve given up. Sam gave his life. He did it for the world, for you, and for his brother. He did not do it for recognition nor honor, nor glory nor fame. No one would ever know, no one would ever hear his story and learn what he did. No one would ever believe in this boy with the demon blood, no one but the high school dropout and the girl who learned to believe again.


End file.
